Still A Child
by Galadriell
Summary: Draco Malfoy is the next heir to the Malfoy inheritance. He must learn all he can about the family business from his father, Lucius, and a caustic apprentice named Mr. Potter. Non-magic, olden times, some non-con, child abuse, smut. Harry/Draco slash!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter so please don't sue me.**

**A/N:** I know, I know. _Another_ story, Galadriell? I just can't stop, that's all. I'll 'finish' this one. I swear(ish). A million thanks to InsaneOrange for beta! You guys have no idea how badly I needed her help with this one :D

**About the story**  
>As always with my stories, there will be some explicit scenes and swearing. If there are some extra warnings, I will post them in the author's note at the top of the chapter so make sure you read those in case I write something to could possibly offend you. There will be some non-con but nothing too graphic (and hopefully nothing too shocking). This is a non-magic and OOC piece with a lot of period elements. I will try and update as often as possible but school starts up again soon so maybe one chapter a week? We'll see how far that goes ;D<p>

And so we begin!

* * *

><p>Draco Malfoy stepped out of the carriage, swiping the beads of sweat off his neck. His skin crawled from the heat and the toll of his long journey.<p>

Now that he was of age and without purpose, he found no reason to _not_ visit his father, whom he had seen perhaps three times per year for all of his childhood. Most people spoke nothing but praises of Lucius. Draco knew of him as a rich lord of the land and a successful businessman with a formidable reputation, nothing more. It was time to learn his father's trade and become heir.

Having lived in Paris for nearly all his life, the unsophisticated streets of London were discouraging to say the least. But he must learn to call it home now. He absently gestured to his servants to follow him with his luggage. His heart thrilled at the sight of the majestic mansion spanning across a piece of land far larger than many across the country. His land.

The door was opened by a prim butler who nodded at Draco and let him in. "Master Lucius is waiting for you in the study. It is up the stairs and the first door to the right."

Draco murmured an appropriate response as he took in the marble foyer with the crystal chandelier and ostentatious paintings. He walked up the stairs slowly, marveling the décor with the eye of an artist. Exquisite. Deep oak banisters complimented the polished stone he stepped on. Regal blue and pearl paint adorned the walls. Statues of stone and clay stood in alcoves, always a treasure to find.

He knocked on the heavily worked door twice. "Come in," a muffled voice sounded. Draco walked in with a straight back and a sure stance.

Lucius Malfoy stood up to meet his son. Dressed in the finest grey suit and wearing the whitest cravat, the man was power personified. His long and tamed hair was tied at the back by a length of black ribbon and he stood with a hand draped over an ebony staff that was decorated with the silver head of a striking snake – foreboding and dominant. His expression was that of casual indifference, as though nothing could and would faze him. "Draco," he greeted, holding out his hand.

"Sir," Draco said, meeting his father's hand for a shake. "I trust you are well." _This_ was the man he longed to be.

"As well as can be," Lucius answered. "And you?"

"As well as can be," Draco mirrored, smiling faintly.

* * *

><p>"I hope you do not mind the early supper. I am sure you are famished," Lucius said, inviting his son to sit down at the table that had a lavish dinner laid out for the men. Only the finest cutlery and china would do at the manor, no less.<p>

"You know me too well," Draco smiled. "I can never say no to food."

"Much like your mother in that sense," Lucius muttered, jibing at Narcissa without being too forward.

Draco shook his head, sighing. His parents had the most spectacular arguments… "She is fine, Father," he answered the unasked question.

"I know," Lucius nodded. "She has raised you well."

"She has."

Lucius poured a glass of sweet wine for Draco, handing him the crystal. "Shall we toast to Narcissa, then?" he asked.

"I don't see why not," Draco agreed, clinking his glass to his father's. After a sip, they started their luscious meal of meat and bread.

"I have heard nothing but good news from your tutors," Lucius said in approval.

"They fawn over me." Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It is no surprise you hear nothing else."

"Then you sweet talk them into it?"

"I suppose," Draco shrugged. "Easily manipulated, their kind. Teachers, I mean. Give them what they want, they see nothing but good in you."

"As opposed to…"

"As opposed to a woman. Give her what she wants, she sees nothing but faults in you."

Lucius laughed in response, shaking his head at his son. "Well said," he noted.

But before Draco could speak further, a loud commotion just outside the room snagged his attention. The door swung open forcefully and banged against the wall.

His stomach clenched.

Was _everything_ in this manor as _beautiful_ as the heavens above?

With mussed black hair and red-stained cheeks, the man who strode in was perfection. His jaw was clenched in the most adamant manner of anger and frustration. His emerald eyes pierced as a sword would as it plunged straight through Draco's heart. Slight as he may be, he seemed fit to be a king. He planted himself in front of the table with his stern glare fixed on Lucius.

"Mr. Mundungus is quite close to having his nose hacked off by _me_. How dare he think he can fool me with his abhorring contracts? Why must you insist on conducting business with that man? He is a thief and a fool!"

Lucius arched a brow. "This is Draco," he introduced, gesturing at his ignored son who was gazing up at the angered man with amazement and infatuation. "Draco, this is my apprentice, Mr. Harry Potter."

"This is no time for supper!" Harry exclaimed, casting a wayward glance at Draco. Then he whipped his eyes back at young Malfoy with an expression of disbelief.

"Pleasure," Draco said, getting up on his feet as was customary.

Harry looked back at Lucius in confusion. "I… he… He looks like you."

"He is my son," Lucius repeated deliberately.

Draco fidgeted out of nervousness when those sharp and bewitching emerald eyes moved back to inspect him.

"Hmm."

Draco was devastated!

He was truly devastated by the bored murmur that the man responded with.

He had been discarded as though he were an undesirable subject or a worthless painting or a dull novella.

"I must speak to you afterwards," Harry told Lucius. "Else I will need to go search for my dagger. And my prize will be Mundungus' nose!" Then he strode away, closing the door behind him none too gently.

The Malfoys were left in sudden silence.

Lucius gestured for Draco to sit down once again and the young man complied quickly. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of cutlery on plate and sips of wine. Lucius seemed to be in deep thought while Draco…

He clicked his tongue and set the knife and fork down on the plate before calmly asking, "What is wrong with that man?" He had to know _everything_ about Mr. Potter as soon as possible.

Lucius sighed. "I have coddled him too much," he muttered.

"Ah, yes… Pity."

* * *

><p>Draco could see the entire expanse of the entry grounds from his window. He hadn't noticed until muffled sounds echoed into his room. He glanced across from his desk, tilting his head to the side while trying to make out the speech. When it became apparent that he wouldn't be able to from where he was seated, he made his way to the drawn window and peered out from behind the panes of glass.<p>

Mr. Potter seemed to be the one creating the racket.

Draco smiled absently and sat down on the window ledge to watch the proceedings.

From what he could tell, the man was dressing down the servants with one hand behind his back and the other hand up with his finger wagging in admonishment. Five maids and footmen stood in a straight line, heads bowed as they took the scolding without a sound. Potter was pacing from one end to the other, perhaps liking the sound of his voice a bit too much.

Draco leaned his head against the glass, wishing he could hear this chatter that was no doubt entertaining.

With a final and sharp pronouncement, Potter seemingly waved them off with a flippant gesture of his hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught movement from the hedges. He squinted down and made out the crowns of three small red heads. Snaking between them was a garden hose. His brow arching in wonder, he watched as the one in front made a signal to his partners in crime. Then sounded a shrill war cry before they sprang out from behind the shrubs and started spraying water every which way, but attempting to aim it _at _Potter.

The servants scattered simultaneously, loud shrieks filtering through the glass. The men had the audacity to point at a soaking Harry Potter and laugh while the women tried to cover up their mirth behind their hands. Meanwhile, even though Mr. Potter was in the process of getting drenched, he was not someone who would go down quietly. He grabbed the first child he could get his hands on and picked him up, using him as a shield to ward off the wet onslaught. The poor boy sputtered and squirmed in Harry's arms while getting soaked to the bone. The other two decided it was time to run and took off, leaving their companion behind.

Draco had been privy to all this and he barely tried to stifle his delight. He watched Potter turn the boy around, who couldn't possibly be older then eight, so they faced each other. He watched the boy wrap his arms around Harry's neck and hug him tight. And he watched Harry scowl at the laughing servants, which only seemed to make them laugh even harder.

Draco simply had to get acquainted with this strange character.

By the time he had made his way down the stairs, he could hear the bustling commotion in the grand foyer as everyone started filing in, still chuckling from the incident.

"It was not funny," Draco heard Harry grumble.

"It most certainly was, sir," came an answer.

"Then I'd like to see _you_ on the receiving end," Harry huffed.

"No, thank you."

And everything came to an abrupt stop as a dozen eyes suddenly caught sight of Draco. The color left everyone's faces, as did their grins. It was rather staggering to watch. Draco pursed his lips and that seemed to prompt everyone to scatter. Three seconds later, Potter was the only one left.

They stared at each other and Draco was trying to read Mr. Potter. Even while wearing a drenched suit and appearing as would a drowned cat, he couldn't help thinking about how endearing the man looked. Complete with a displeased scowl, he seemed to be waiting for Draco to comment.

"Rather wet, aren't you?"

Harry stomped up the steps as his scowl deepened. "Pardon," he growled, sidling past Draco.

Draco caught him by the wrist.

Harry froze, glancing back at Draco with wide, disbelieving eyes. "What?" he snapped.

"I am your Lord as well," Draco murmured, his intent to spite quite obvious by the snide tone of voice. "Or have you forgotten, Mr. Potter?"

The change in Harry was staggering. His frown faded to make room for something… unrecognizable.

And then came a faint smile that caused Draco to let go of the wet hand in surprise.

"Indeed," Harry seceded with a bow of his head. "My Lord. Pardon my impudence."

"Hmm."

"And pardon the servants."

"Very well."

Harry held Draco's gaze for a moment longer before walking up the staircase while swiping the water off of his face and hair. Draco watched as he leaned against the banister and wiped his damp palm over his trousers. Quite a strange man, this Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>"Who <em>is<em> Potter?" Draco asked his father over evening tea.

"Harry Potter?" Lucius clarified, to which Draco nodded. "He is nobody, really. A ruffian from long ago."

"Ruffian?" Draco exclaimed. "Excuse me?"

"He used to do odds and ends around the grounds," Lucius explained.

"He is a _hired hand_?" Draco couldn't believe it. A _hired hand_ had scorned him as though he were an unintelligible fool?

"Lower still," Lucius smirked, as though what he was telling Draco was a personal achievement of sorts. "Absolutely crude."

"Goodness! You raised him this way?"

"Of course." Lucius nodded. "I made him my apprentice once I started seeing potential. He is a hard worker. Do not let his exterior fool you."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, sitting forward.

"He does everything in his power to get what he wants. And that includes his disposition. I have seen him at his worst," Lucius said, now appearing distant as though he were lost in those memories. "And I have seen him at his best." He took a sip of his tea and honed in on his son. "What would you like to know?"

Draco's mind was teeming with questions, but he wondered if it would be more fun to ask the subject himself. "I think I would rather find out more about Mr. Potter in my own time, Father," he said with a gracious smile.

"And I wish you luck," Lucius scoffed.

* * *

><p>After a fortnight of stay, Draco was starting to notice patterns in the daily life at Malfoy Manor. There seemed to be two phases and it revolved around the presence of the master of the house, Lucius. When he was present, the manor was run with precision and anticipation, as though everyone was yearning to please this man. There would be absolutely no horseplay or unnecessary chatter of any kind. The bustle would be strictly restrained and that included everyone from the kitchen staff to the butlers. Punctuality was a must, as was prompt service.<p>

But when Lucius was away, the atmosphere would relax to the point where Draco could _feel_ the tension abetting. There would be less pressure to set everything perfectly. He would catch soft patter of feet and laughter down the numerous halls. There would be food of the kind he had never tried before, flavors that burst in his mouth and presentation that dazzled his eyes. Music would sound from rooms that were being cleaned by the maids.

Night and day.

Apparently Draco's presence was not a factor in the way the household was run. Indeed, whenever the 'young' Master entered the room, the servants straightened up and stopped their talks. But he did not hold the same power over the staff as his father.

Then there was Harry James Potter. He seemed to be the only one allowed to behave obstinately to Lucius. Whether Lucius was at home or away, Mr. Potter would stay the same way.

This mysterious man captured Draco's young and romantic mind.

Dressed in the finest and most modern suits, he could be everywhere and nowhere at once. He showed as much respect to the servants as he did to Lucius, keeping his slightly obnoxious air around him at all times. He carried himself with poise and grace. If Lucius hadn't mentioned it, Draco would have never guessed that Potter was a poor, little orphan boy from the streets. He supposed he needed to give credit where it was due. His father had the magic touch and that was no news. The Malfoy wealth had grown tenfold because of Lucius and his manipulative nature that worked incredibly well with the economic market. Harry seemed to be no stranger to that fact.

Draco could see his father's preaching in Mr. Potter's words and actions. Bold and aggressive, Harry had the confidence of a successful upper-class gentleman. He was very much unlike Draco who had the utopian and ruminative mind of a Parisian painter whose attention has been garnered by a far-away beauty.

He needed to start painting soon for he had found an exquisite muse.

Harry glanced up from his writing when a short rap on the door interrupted his concentration. He found himself looking up at Draco who was standing at the door with a slight smile. "My Lord," he murmured, getting up. "Did you need anything?"

"Hmm," Draco murmured, flicking his eyes around the study. It seemed to be Harry's personal library, strewn with books and papers. "Perhaps your company?"

Harry tilted his head in contemplation, scrutinizing Draco's smile. "I do not believe my Lord realizes the consequences of that demand," he said.

"I will take my chances," Draco laughed. "Dine with me? I am not used to eating alone."

"And yet you have been alone for over a fortnight."

Draco merely shrugged. Indeed, he did enjoy time alone to contemplate his thoughts, but this much time alone couldn't be good for those thoughts or his mind. "Shall we?" he asked.

"Certainly," Harry accepted, haphazardly shuffling his creased papers together and closing the ledger before getting up. "You simply must excuse my untidiness, my Lord. I work well this way."

"I hadn't even noticed," Draco lied with charm, gesturing for Harry to lead the way.

"We have not had the pleasure of making acquaintances," Harry said, walking briskly as he always did. He had purpose in each stride.

"It is never too late to make acquaintances, Mr. Potter."

"Very well. How has your stay been?"

"Wonderful. Different," Draco answered.

"My French vernacular is sadly limited to bonjour."

"As is mine."

Harry smiled in response, causing Draco's stomach to quiver and squeeze with pleasure. He had made Mr. Potter smile. "You have strange humor, my Lord," Harry appraised. Draco flushed with pride. They entered the dining room where one place was set. "I will let them know that I intend to dine with you." He beckoned Draco to sit down before hurrying to the kitchen.

Five minutes later, the two men were seated at the table with steaming food on their plates and shining cutlery at hand. "My father sings praises of you," Draco said before taking his first bite.

"He does?" Harry asked mildly.

"I wanted to see for myself."

Harry looked up at Draco, his dazzling emerald eyes boring through Draco, as though trying to examine his thoughts. "And what do you see, my Lord?" he asked.

Draco wondered what the gaze meant and hoped to God that he was not misinterpreting. "I believe I understand why Father prefers your company," he replied after a moment of thought.

"Why is that?" Harry asked, fork dangling uselessly between his fingers.

Draco leaned back so he could observe Harry to his fullest. "Your smile is captivating," he said, knowing full well how bold that statement must sound.

Harry blinked as he took in those words, as though not quite believing his ears. Draco did not avert his eyes, however. He wanted to see how Mr. Potter would respond. Harry tilted his head when he realized that the young Lord was not about to correct himself or even pardon himself for that comment.

So he laughed in astonishment, the silver utensils clattering onto the plate when he let go of them to hide his glee behind his hands. Draco smiled at the wildly amused eyes. This man was still a child in the way he showed his enthusiasm. Hands pressed against his mouth, Mr. Potter appeared so young and naïve. It was refreshing for Draco to see.

"I am glad to see that I have not offended you," he murmured, which only caused Harry to laugh more rambunctiously.

"I-I _assure_ you that that is _not_ what your father sees in me," Potter answered shakily.

But it was what Draco saw in Harry. "Pity," he said, pulling his gaze down to his dinner. Yes, it was quite easy to fall in love with Mr. Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Don't be too shocked by this chapter, please! And, once again, thank you to InsaneOrange for being so insightful with the chapters!

* * *

><p>Draco had been observing eyes peeking at him for many minutes now, distracting him from the letter he was writing to his mother. Whenever he looked up, he would catch a glimpse of red hair and brown eyes before it disappeared from view behind the door. When it happened for the fifth time, Draco placed his pen on the paper and kept his eyes on the entryway.<p>

Sure enough, a few moments later, he saw a quick flash of twinkling eyes. He sat forward, elbows on the table and fingers weaving together to make place for his chin. Now the eyes peeked out and stayed for a longer while. Draco jerked his brows up questioningly. The eyes winked in response. Draco nodded at the boy to come in.

The boy inched to the side, hugging the doorframe as he looked up at Draco with a shy smile.

"Hello," Draco offered.

"Hello," the small boy whispered before quickly sliding his thumb into his mouth.

"Who might you be?" Draco asked, holding out an inviting hand.

The boy ran to Draco and clambered on his lap, shifting around until they were facing each other. "Who might you be?" he asked in turn.

This boy seemed to be around four years of age and appeared to be from the same heritage as the rest of the housekeeping Draco had seen around the manor. He figured it was a family business. "My name is Mr. Malfoy," he said in introduction.

"No, it's not," the boy said with a grave shake of his head. "Mr. Malfoy is away."

"And I am his son. So I am Mr. Malfoy too." Draco finished.

"Oh."

"Now you must tell me who you are."

The boy blushed, ducking his head and sticking his thumb back in his mouth. Draco gently pulled the hand away. The boy was already growing buckteeth from all the thumb sucking. "Hugo, sir," he answered quietly.

"And what have you been into?" Draco asked, brushing dirt off of Hugo's cheeks. "Rolling in the garden, no doubt."

Hugo giggled, shaking his head quickly. "Sh!"

"Alright, alright," Draco laughed in appeasement.

Hugo then turned around to face the desk. "Are you writing?" he asked, pressing his grubby hands against the papers.

"A letter. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn't dirty everything in sight," Draco answered.

"Eep!" the boy squeaked, clutching his hands to his stomach and looking at the dirt marks on the paper. "Oh, no!"

"It is alright," Draco assured him. "Mother wouldn't mind a bit of your garden in her letter."

"I'm sorry," Hugo mumbled. He made sure to keep his hands to himself now.

"Hmm." Draco nodded. "Why were you peeking?"

Hugo glanced up at the man. "Because I wanted to see you," he remarked. "I wanted to see."

Draco rested his cheek against Hugo's soft curls. "I suppose you could do no harm," he said to himself. "Shall I finish writing?"

"Yes, please." Hugo nodded enthusiastically.

Draco was suddenly reminded of his fox terrier he had had to leave behind in France. They had been together for eight years, since the pup had been born. Draco missed Clyde so and Hugo's animated nature mirrored the dog in many aspects, playful and shy. Draco hugged him close for a second as he felt an unusual burst of homesickness. "You seem wonderful," he murmured, much to Hugo's excitement.

"I do?" the boy asked in awe. It was such high praise for a simple boy. "Thank you, sir!"

"Mhm," Draco sighed forlornly. "Let's write, shall we?"

He picked up the pen and started from where he had left off. Hugo sucked his thumb comfortingly. Resting his head against Draco's chest, he looked up at the man with unhidden awe. He wondered why everyone was scared. Mr. Malfoy felt so warm and he looked nice. Hugo decided that there was no reason to be afraid. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, smacking his lips together. It was naptime, after all.

It took Draco a few more minutes to finish up, ending the letter after inquiring about Clyde and his mischief. He finished with a flourish before setting the pen down. "Now what shall… we do?" he trailed off. Hugo was slumbering happily while nestled in his arms. "I suppose that is _one_ thing you could do."

"I can take him off of your hands."

Draco glanced up to find Harry leaning against the doorjamb, arms folded against his chest and an unreadable expression on his face. "Good afternoon," Draco said, keeping his foolish grin at bay.

Harry blinked at the barely hidden smile that pushed him out of his reverie. He smiled back weakly and flicked his eyes away, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Yes. And you," he greeted.

"Have you been standing there for long?"

"I suppose," Harry murmured, looking up at Draco through lowered lashes.

Draco squirmed against Hugo as a blush bloomed on his cheeks.

"Has he been trouble?" Harry proceeded to ask, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"He has been perfect." Draco smiled. "He makes me miss my terrier."

"Oh?"

"I've had Clyde for such a long time," Draco reminisced. "I have never parted with him for longer than a week. I am embarrassingly attached to the mutt."

Harry eyed Draco with a mild surprise. "Embarrassing," he murmured, finally walking into the library. "It is time for his nap. He must be tired if he decided to fall asleep on your lap that way."

Draco's heart fluttered as Mr. Potter leaned down to pick up Hugo from his arms. They were so close that he could feel Harry's breath against him. He watched the man handle the boy with ease, cradling him safely. "You are close to them all," Draco noted. "Why?"

"I don't understand," Harry mumbled, walking away.

Draco followed him like a lamb. "To the servants," he explained. "You are liked."

"Of course, I am. I am very likeable."

Draco laughed at the blatant statement. "I can attest to that," he flirted.

"My Lord." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Indulge me, Mr. Potter."

He let out a defeated sigh. "They are my friends. So I am liked," he said.

Draco nodded, slow understanding dawning on him. "They have taken care of you, haven't they? Father told me how you were a hired hand before," he said thoughtfully.

Harry flinched but hid it well by tilting his head down to look at Hugo. "I was," he agreed. "And yes, they have taken care of me for many years."

Draco listened with romantic notions swirling in his mind. It seemed like the case of a pauper turning into a prince. It was fantastical. "Would you tell me more?" he asked.

"No." It was a rather curt reply too.

Draco was thrown off by the response. He had never been denied that way before. "Pardon?" he asked, unsure if he had hear wrong.

"No, you may not hear more," Harry elaborated.

Now Draco was thoroughly intrigued. He kept silent as they walked down the stairs, casting numerous glances out of the corner of his eye towards Harry. "I demand to know more," he tried.

He saw Harry's lip twitch up as though they were doing so against his will. "A demand," Mr. Potter echoed. "My weakness."

* * *

><p>And all of a sudden, Harry was everywhere Draco was. Not a day passed without them speaking with each other. They would dine together, sometimes with Lucius, sometimes not. Draco would 'demand' to know more every day. Harry would evade questions with quick wit and a smirk.<p>

The two had taken up riding in mutual company by the third month of the young Lord's stay. They were making their way back to the stable when a rather odd topic was brought up. "Why have you never visited before?" Harry asked, the abrupt question startling Draco.

"I… am not certain," Draco answered, feeling unusually nervous now that _he_ was the one answering questions. "My father visits me every year. I suppose I never saw a reason."

"Your mother was enough?"

"More than enough," he mumbled, his cheeks flooding with color. "I suppose I am more… attached to my mother than father."

"I see."

Harry reached up, offering his hand. Draco let go of the reins and took the soft palm, shivering at the touch. He dismounted easily and landed on the ground beside Mr. Potter.

Harry felt Draco's hand tightening around his. He searched the stormy eyes for unsaid words and there were stories behind them. There was romance in them.

"Do not overstep your boundaries, Mr. Malfoy," the apprentice murmured before wrenching his hand away and snubbing the young Lord by walking his horse into the stable.

Draco groaned like a lovesick damsel and buried his flushed face against the neck of his mare. "He kills me, Jackie," he whispered in secret. "Every day. Every scowl." The horse whinnied in response, nuzzling him with a soft breath.

* * *

><p>"My son seems to have taken a liking to you, Mr. Potter," Lucius commented, causing Harry to stiffen.<p>

"Oh?"

Lucius kept his keen eyes on his apprentice. "Am I to believe that you hadn't noticed?" he asked.

Harry turned from the books, green eyes flashing with irritation. "Yes, you are to believe so," he said.

Lucius sat up in wonder. "And are you implying that you feel the same?" he asked in disbelief.

"No," Harry scoffed.

The Lord stood up with deliberate slowness and Harry kept his back turned with deliberate ignorance. "My, my, Harry Potter," he murmured with a strange twist to his words.

"Yes, my Lord?" Harry asked with a vague smile, closing the book quietly and turning around.

"He is my son," Lucius reminded his apprentice.

"And _I_ have merely-"

"You forget, Potter," Lucius interrupted while bringing his ebony walking stick up and pressing the tip against Harry's chest. "I can read you better than yourself."

"Hmm."

"My son is not my weakness," Lucius prompted, causing Harry's smile to widen. Lucius smirked when he realized that he had struck gold. "I have no sentiments towards him."

Potter didn't speak.

"But you already know this, Harry," he continued. "So why?"

Silence.

"I know he is naïve. I see that in him," Lucius reflected. "Much like his mother… But you hate naiveté. He is still a child."

Harry tried to brush past Lucius without offering a response.

"Perhaps that is it, then," Lucius murmured, watching his apprentice walk towards his desk and shuffle through some paper. "He is a child."

"That he is," Harry noted.

Lucius covered the distance in three stride and forced Harry around. "Stop," he commanded.

"Stop," Harry echoed, sparks flying from his emerald irises.

"He may be younger but he is not me," Lucius whispered, silencing Harry with a ravenous kiss.

Harry twisted away and turned his back to his Lord. His arm was outstretched behind him, warding off Lucius in case of another attempt. His other hand was against his lips and his head was bowed as he tried to compose himself.

Fingers tangled with his, forcing his arm to collapse and bend to Lucius' will. It snaked around his stomach, his master's arm atop it. Chest to back, Lucius ghosted his lips over Harry's neck. "You are angry with me," he whispered. "Why?"

"You very well know why," Harry sighed, tilting his head to the side and leaning into Lucius' half-embrace. "You know why, my Lord…"

Lucius wound his other hand across the lithe chest in front of him, holding Harry captive. "You are not to hide secrets from me," he whispered, snapping the button off of Harry's shirt to expose his collarbone. His hand slid up and wrapped around the soft neck with ease, squeezing.

"You are not to hide secrets from me," Harry breathed, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Lucius' beating heart. "I will resent you."

"Then resent me," Lucius challenged by kissing Harry with incorrigible thirst.

Harry responded in kind, spinning around in Lucius' arms and sliding his fingers into the silken strands of gold hair. He arched up when Lucius bit into his lip as punishment for his insolence. He slid his knee up and moved his calf to wrap around Lucius' legs. The slender hands didn't hesitate, stroking Harry through his clothes. "You are jealous," Harry breathed while sliding his wet lips down to Lucius' ear, suddenly understanding. "Jealous, my Lord?"

"You know me well."

"He reminds me of you."

"No, he does not," Lucius countered.

Harry smirked at the abrupt response, picking his head up to look at Lucius. "Hmm…"

"Down."

Harry slid to his knees and his dexterous fingers undid Lucius in a matter of a few seconds. "He reminds me of what you could be," he corrected, looking up at the Lord before pleasuring him with pursed lips.

"And?" Lucius asked, raking his hand through raven locks.

Harry hummed, sending shivers down Lucius' spine. He suckled slowly while massaging his Lord's waist. "He is captivated by my smile," he slurred with a glint in his eyes as he smiled for Lucius.

"You," Lucius chuckled in exasperation. "You manipulate me with the ease of a snake."

"As do you, my Lord," Harry sighed. "Overlook Finnegan's mistake, won't you?"

"No."

Harry glanced up in surprise. Lucius arched a brow at the young man before walking backwards and sitting down on the chaise. He nodded at Harry to come forward.

Once Harry was kneeling between his knees, he added, "But perhaps if you beg, I could pardon the stable hand."

"Beg?" Harry scowled. "I never beg. Seamus made one simple mistake. It could have happened to anyone, my Lord."

"Why would you care, Mr. Potter?" Lucius asked, weaving his fingers into Harry's hair again and pushing him down.

He tried not to choke because he didn't want to give his Lord the satisfaction. He pleasured him even as involuntary tears ran down his cheeks. Both men were equally stubborn and set in their arguments. Even as Lucius tightened his hold on Harry's hair, the latter did not make a sound of protest. He looked up at Lucius defiantly after his fourth bout of gagging.

The Lord curled his lips into a predatory smirk and he pulled Harry's mouth off of him. All he needed to do was tilt his head to the side for the apprentice to start unbuttoning his own trousers. But the scowl never left his face. Even as he straddled his Lord, he kept that scowl in place and it deepened still as they settled into a slow and painful rhythm.

"Must you look at me that way?" Lucius murmured. He brought his hand up to touch Harry's cheek.

Harry flinched away and barked, "Yes."

"Well, think of this as a punishment for wishing for my son," Lucius retorted, suddenly thrusting up and catching Harry unawares.

He let out a barely stifled gasp of pain and his head lolled forward onto his Lord's shoulder, which he bit down on to hold back his pained voice.

Lucius brought his hands up between them and started to unbutton Harry's shirt to expose the skin hidden beneath. "Stop biting me," he murmured.

Harry let out a shaky moan and released Lucius' shoulder from between his teeth. He nuzzled the Lord while wrapping arms around his neck. They moved in unison, their actions sultry and wanton. Their breaths grew harsh and vocal as they shifted towards animalistic urges. Lucius used his fingers to trace the toned muscles on Harry's torso. Harry shivered as each touch set off flutters in his stomach.

"Faster?" the Lord asked.

"Harder," Harry answered.

They rolled onto the chaise with Harry on his back and Lucius hovering over him. Their lips melded as they worked towards their crests. They made deep and breathless love to each other until Harry was writhing uncontrollably from the assault.

"I cannot live without you," Lucius said heavily.

"Do not lie," Harry panted. His nails were digging into his Lord's back, leaving angry marks. "Please, never lie to me."

"It is what I do best, my love."

"Never lie to me," Harry groaned, his head falling to the side as Lucius filled him with warm seed.

"Allow me," the Lord smirked.

"Please," the apprentice whimpered.

Five minutes later, he was covered in residue of the assault. Lucius slid off of him and lay down beside him, holding him close. Against the filtered moonlight, Harry appeared ethereal with glowing skin and midnight hair. Lucius kissed him while savoring the salt and warmth that the young man had to offer. "You hurt me." He absently fingered the bite marks on his shoulder.

Harry merely laughed, too tired to argue. He could barely breathe because of the ache shooting up his legs and back. He hid his face against Lucius' chest and fell asleep.

Lucius smiled while brushing down his apprentice's damp raven hair. "I will pardon Finnegan," he whispered.

"Thank you…"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** If last chapter wasn't shocking enough for you, this one will surely take the cake. There will be some non-consensual scenes and Harry will be young (very young). You have been warned and if you do not wish to continue, I am perfectly fine with it. This chapter is mostly made up of flashbacks. Also, thanks to InsaneOrange for the beta!

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><p>"Hello!" Harry greeted jovially, thumping Seamus on the back.<p>

He jumped a foot in the air and swore colorfully as he whipped around. "Oh!" he gasped, "Mr. Potter!" The stable hand appeared fidgety, which was only human, since just half a day ago, his blunder had caused a prized stallion to go missing and the fence to be splintered beyond repair.

"You look _awful_!" Harry exclaimed. "There really is no need! You will stay employed."

Seamus blinked in response.

"And now you may thank me," Harry added, fixing his shirt importantly.

"Wh-what did you do?" Seamus asked with his hands squeezing Harry's shoulders to emphasize his worry.

"Nothing! Honest," Harry lied without batting an eye. "You always think I did something."

"Stop doing this," Seamus begged in a hurried whisper. "You have to stop."

"I hand you your job back and all I get for it is admonition?" Harry grumbled theatrically. "See if I help you again." He turned on his heel.

Seamus stopped him quickly. "W-wait! I-I'm … I'm sorry. Thank you," he stammered. "You know I am thankful, don't you, Harry?"

"Hmm," Harry smiled. "Just remember to close the stall from now onwards."

"Yes, yes, yes. Always," Seamus promised, cupping Harry's face in his hands. "Please know this."

"Very well," Harry winked, pushing away from Seamus. "Prepare my horse for this evening, will you?" He waltzed out of the stable while Seamus clenched his eyes shut as disgust and guilt engulfed him.

* * *

><p>Lucius would have never noticed the scrappy, black haired servant boy if not for a shaky ladder.<p>

He had been jerked out of his reverie when he heard awfully sad screams through the window of his study.

He had found the slight boy crumpled in an untidy heap with his arm clutched close to him and tears running down everything. Lucius had carried him to the house-nurse while trying not to mind the shrieks that burned into his ears.

And the boy had refused to let go of Lucius.

They had both been weak at the time. Harry had clung to the first warm body he could get his hands on and Lucius had smiled at the pained tears. The new bond that formed at that moment was hard to break since it should have been impossible to forge in the first place.

Lucius felt himself being drawn in by Harry's shy gazes and stubbornly determined attitude. But it was the boy's body that he lusted after. Lucius prided himself over control but, when he was with Harry, he felt the control slipping. The mop of raven hair was something he had never seen against such pale skin. Like a dark angel, Harry's soft smiles engulfed Lucius' thoughts.

At first the boy was simply allowed into the house and made to work in the kitchen with the rest of the staff. Then he was one of the few servants allowed into the Lord's study. Soon, he was the only one allowed into the Lord's chambers.

It had been a mistake that had been brewing for many months. In a moment of inebriation and desire, Lucius had lost his control that had been teetering on edge. The night had ended with Harry clutching the sheets close to him, screaming from the pain that had ended many minutes ago, and Lucius sitting atop the bed with revulsion at the inconceivable deed he had committed. The child had been barely twelve… In a flurry of actions that deserved the worst punishment, Harry had been torn apart. Fear that had robbed his voice during the ordeal was now coming out. The shrieks struck Lucius' heart, burning him as though hot coals were being fed to his chest.

The demons of alcohol had possessed him to defile an innocent boy.

But, come morning, Harry was huddled close to Lucius, safe in his Lord's arms. The man and boy had woken up at the same instant, stirring and then stilling as the events from mere hours ago crashed into them at nauseating speeds. Lucius had stared down at the dark angel pressed against him. Gone were the shy and sweet eyes. It had been replaced by loss and desperation. But Harry didn't move a muscle to scramble away.

Their eyes closed at the same moment and their lips pressed against each other clumsily. Their first kiss.

"I will make you a prince," Lucius had promised as heady anticipation rushed into his mind, dizzying him.

Harry had merely looked up at Lucius, waiting. Lucius had nothing more to add. "But?" the boy prompted.

"Pardon?" Lucius had frowned in confusion.

"You will make me a prince but?"

How smart this boy was… Lucius tightened his hold on Harry, his breath taken away by the stubbornly set jaw and the feel of virgin skin against his body. "But you will be mine forever," he breathed, sealing the command with a forceful kiss.

A mere twelve year old was destroyed by a man over thrice his age. And that man would rebuild him into something… perfect.

* * *

><p>It took Harry over a year to realize that he did not have to be at his master's mercy.<p>

Lucius had been taken by surprise. Pleasant surprise.

They were tangled against sheets and limbs, Harry's pained groans causing Lucius to become more aroused. And then soft whispers reached the man.

"I want a new horse."

Lucius froze atop Harry, bracing himself on his elbows and breathless. Harry's arms encircled him and fingers gently coaxed the nape of his neck. This was new. This was… interesting. "A horse?" Lucius asked, pulling out of Harry's tight warmth.

"Hmm," Harry groaned, biting his lip to keep his scream of agony to himself as he felt his insides being dragged out of him. "P-please," he whimpered, opening his eyes to look up at Lucius.

"Please?" Lucius echoed, now thoroughly perplexed.

"I want a new horse, please," Harry trembled, tears falling.

Lucius jumped when he felt small hands against his wet erection. His eyes widened in disbelief. Harry was guiding him back in. "Stop," he hissed.

"No," Harry whispered back, thrusting himself against the burning arousal. "Ah…"

Lucius watched Harry's back arch as pain shot through him from the sudden insertion. He felt the boy shudder and heave. He heard Harry's barely stifled sob.

Then the eyes opened again. Lucius exhaled slowly when he saw sparks of resolution in them. And, for the first time in a year, they moved in unison, Lucius pushing into Harry and Harry sliding towards him invitingly.

Lucius would have given Harry the moon…

* * *

><p>The boy was pushed away by everyone but the Lord. He was never allowed outside the mansion, but the mansion itself was a village of sorts. He was unwelcome in the kitchen and refused attendance on more than one occasion. He hardly minded. He had never been waited on before. The servants saw him as a plague – deadly and contagious.<p>

He never let on how much the disgusted looks hurt him. He knew that crying was weak. He had his Lord and that was all that mattered.

He both dreaded and yearned for his time with Lucius. When the Lord was sober, they would be in the study and he would be teaching Harry the tricks of the trade. Harry was eager to learn because he was eager to please. He read any and all books that were thrust his way and he paid careful attention to his Lord's words. He learnt that the world ran on money and, in order to stay afloat, one must amalgamate as much money as possible. He rather liked that idea. Lucius was living the high life, after all. Harry wanted the same thing.

Lucius often found the boy pouring over old records of budgets and businesses. In fact, he had, on more than one occasion, had to move the sleeping boy from the chaise to the bed.

But those were the good days.

The bad days were the ones when Lucius drowned himself in alcohol.

And, on those days, anyone caught in his path needed to pay heed.

The demons of alcohol reared its ugly head again one fateful evening and a young girl had been caught.

It took but one blow for the girl to fall to the floor with a hard thud.

And no one could do a thing but watch as Lucius raised his hand again.

Harry stopped him with a violent push, appearing out of nowhere and ramming into him at full force.

Lucius had let out a frustrated snarl, jerking Harry around with bruising fingers. "What?" he barked.

"No," Harry growled, shoving him into the sitting room and slamming the door shut behind them. "No, no, no, no, no!"

With a single sweep of his arm, he sent Harry sprawling across the rug.

Outside, the frozen maids and butlers jumped in fear upon hearing the disastrous crash.

Harry scrambled up to his feet and staggered back while heaving with anger and fear. Lucius was stepping towards him menacingly while he tripped on his feet in his hurry to get away. He spun around and rushed towards the parlor as fast as he could, stumbling from dizziness. Lucius was faster. He latched onto the back of Harry's shirt and tossed him against the wall. Harry struck it hands first, biting back a whimper as his wrists protested and cracked. He quickly turned to meet his Lord's wrath with teary eyes and stubbornly set jaw.

"How _dare_ you behave insolently?" Lucius hissed, raising a hand and swinging it forward.

Harry's head snapped to the side as the stinging blow fell on his cheek. He used the momentum to propel him to the side. He rushed towards the large windows against which stood an ornate glass cabinet. He flung the doors open and swept his hands along the shelf, knocking the bottles of expensive liquor off. The glass shattered to the floor all around him, spraying alcohol and shards. He was sobbing openly as he broke crystal after crystal, his mind in a fog and his heart hammering in terror. He grabbed some by the necks and threw them on the floor forcefully. His anger poured out of him and he shattered everything he could get his hands on.

He felt arms grabbing him from behind and winding around his hips. He was lifted up and deposited on the carpet where he fell on his side and curled up, waiting for more pain.

He was forced on his back.

"Look at me!"

Harry closed his eyes tighter, causing more tears to fall out of him.

He felt himself being lifted again, this time inside cradling arms. He stiffened when he found himself pressed against a warm body. Looking up, he found Lucius staring down at him with an expression of fear and confusion. "You have hurt yourself," the Lord said quietly.

Harry suddenly felt pricks of pain on his hands and legs. The glass shards must have pierced his skin. Just the thought made him lightheaded. "Oh," he whimpered, hiding his face against Lucius' chest. He hated blood. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he cried. "Please."

Lucius pressed his lips against Harry's forehead. "You will be alright. They are small wounds," he reassured. The incident had suddenly sobered him up and now he was filled with wonder and strange emotions. "I… I will never touch spirits again. For you. Never."

Harry finally relaxed and curled into Lucius' embrace. He fell faint a moment later as shock and exhaustion wore him out.

When he awoke, it was nighttime and he was fighting off a nightmare weakly. Only when he opened his eyes did he realize it wasn't a nightmare after all. He was propped up against fluffy pillows and beside his bed sat the cook of the manor. Looking further down the bed stood the girl who had been struck by Lucius. Harry closed his eyes with a cracked moan and turned his head away when he felt a spoon at his lips. He was being fed something.

"You must eat," Molly said gently. "It is quite good, Harry. I am sure you will like it."

He blearily turned his gaze towards the cook again as the words made their way into his head. "You know my name?" he faltered.

Molly allowed herself a smile. "Of course. You have lived here for so long," she told him.

He swallowed to wet his throat and push down his apprehension. He glanced at the girl who simply stood with her eyes downturned and her hands knotted in front of her. She was not much older than him and he had seen her before, but not often. He shook out of his daze and tried to sit up better. "I can eat by myself," he said, reaching out for the bowl.

Then he noticed his bandaged hands. Pulling them back, he ogled them in shock.

And suddenly he remembered.

"Oh no," he mumbled. He had done something awful. "I need to see the Lord," he stammered while trying to push the swaddled sheets off of him.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry whipped his head to the other side of the bed as his heart jumped to his throat. Lucius was leaning a shoulder against the wall with his arms crossed at his chest. Harry searched the stark grey eyes for any signs of anger or disapproval. Well, there was _some_ disapproval but definitely no anger. Neither of them spoke for a short while and Harry was starting to blush from the silent conversation. Then Lucius nodded once and strode out of the room, leaving Harry alone with the women.

He pulled his eyes down to his lap and picked at the white gauze on his palm.

"Now will you eat?" Molly asked.

He nodded mutely and opened his mouth as the spoon was brought to his lips. He let the warm and comforting soup wash down his throat. No one had ever fed him before, not ever. He hazarded a look at Molly. He knew all about her, of course. He had always watched her work from afar. She kept the manor and the other servants in order. He had never seen her look upon him so kindly before, however.

"How old are you, Harry?" she asked.

He couldn't be sure. "Fifteen?" he answered.

"Hmm," she acknowledged. "You are Ronald's age."

Harry wanted to ask who that was, but he did not want to speak. He simply accepted spoonfuls of soup gladly.

"He is my son," Molly said as an answer to the unsaid question. "And she is my daughter, Ginevra."

Harry flicked his eyes at the girl who suddenly fidgeted and slunk into herself.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" the older woman asked. He simply shook his head. Truth be told, everything ached. But that was most likely from the fever he had developed. His hands and legs weren't stinging anymore. "Will you tell me if you are hurting?" Molly asked carefully.

Harry bit his lip and thought of lying. He shook his head again.

He jerked in surprise when he heard a warm laugh from Molly. "You are not unlike my children in that sense, then," she noted in amusement. "There is no need to bear pain when it can easily be taken away for you."

Harry nodded.

* * *

><p>Since that day, he had been moderating tensed relationships between Lucius and his subordinates. Whenever Harry was seen with a slight tiredness in his stride or blank eyes, he was fawned over by nearly everyone in the mansion. No matter how much he lied, they wouldn't stop with their pitying and thankful looks.<p>

But he finally had a place to call 'home'.

Lucius kept his promise and Harry grew bolder. As time went by, they grew attached to each other, both physically and emotionally. Harry rarely tasted the pleasures of sex but, when he did, it pushed the pain to the back of his mind.

One morning he awoke feeling strangely restless. He opened his eyes to the bright sun and his body flashed with alertness. He sat up in fright because he had slept in at least two hours past his wake-up time. He had learnt quite early on that tardiness led to stern punishment and a bundle of chores. He tried to scramble out of bed.

He was pulled back before he could fall off the end.

Looking back in shock, he found Lucius gazing up at him through half-closed eyes. "My Lord," he faltered. Now he was thoroughly confused as to what was happening.

"Lie down," Lucius muttered, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

Harry was reluctant to respond because he was not sure if this was a trick or not.

"You do not recall last night?" the Lord asked with an amused smirk.

Now Harry was frantically trying to remember what had happened. It was quite hard to forget, of course. But there must have been something particularly different that…

He blinked.

He couldn't remember finishing or falling asleep.

He choked on his words as he flushed red.

"I thought I had managed to kill you," Lucius murmured, pulling Harry in and wrapping him in an uncharacteristic embrace.

"You jest," Harry groaned, pushing away from the Lord and rolling out of bed. It was then that he suddenly realized that his body was practically screaming in agony with every small movement he made. "This is nothing to gloat about," he said shakily while steadying himself against the wall.

"Oh?"

Harry blushed brighter as he quickly dressed himself. The previous night had been one of the best nights he had ever had and that was indeed something to be embarrassed about. "I must go bathe," he mumbled.

Lucius propped himself up on his elbows while observing Harry's body. "I believe you have forgotten to thank me," he commented glibly.

Harry whipped a furious glare at the Lord before limping out of the room and slamming the door shut once he was in the spacious bathroom. Lucius smirked as he lay back down and closed his eyes to remember each and every expression Harry had managed to show him just a few hours ago.

They changed each other, for better and for worse. As Harry grew, so did their relationship. Engulfing them in passion and aggression, the men were often left with bruises and bloodied lips by the end of their nights together. Their time together was less frequent, but more potent now. It didn't matter to Harry how physical their relationship was. As long as his Lord looked at no one else but him and _hurt_ no one else but him, he was happy. He was rather selfish in that sense, not unlike Lucius.

And then Draco was to arrive…

"Son?" Harry had asked in wonder. "You have a son?"

"Hmm. So long ago," Lucius answered, shaking his head dismissively.

"Why is he coming here?"

Lucius looked up at Harry, contemplating him. "You do realize that he will be the heir to my inheritance, do you not?" he asked.

"You do not know him," Harry muttered with irritation.

"So I will get to know him and I will prepare him to take over for me."

"Where do you plan on going?" Harry asked, jerking his chin up defiantly.

Lucius laughed at his precious dark angel. "I will stay here until you grow tired of me," he murmured, pressing a kiss against Harry's forehead.

Harry glared at Lucius. "I have grown tired of you," he muttered, folding his arms against his chest.

Lucius twisted Harry's hair in his fingers with a fond smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: I'm so glad not too many of you were horrified with the last chapter :D Here is one to reward your persistence! Thanks to InsaneOrange for the NUMEROUS betas!

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><p>When Harry had found Hugo in Draco's study, he had feared the worst.<p>

Worst was Lucius… Worst was what Lucius had done to him when he was a child.

Instead he had been privy to Draco easing Hugo's hands off of the table and shifting him into a cradle-like hug before resuming to write. Harry couldn't help but watch the two. He saw Hugo looking up at Draco with wondrous eyes, then wrapping his fists around the man's shirt and falling asleep with ease. He saw Draco absently rocking Hugo every time he stopped his writing to think about what else to write. After some minutes, he saw the pen stopping with a determined line across the bottom of the page.

Then he had heard Draco's words to Hugo dropping off into a whisper when the man realized that the boy was fast asleep.

Harry didn't quite understand this. How was Draco like this when Lucius… was not?

Draco had said something about a dog. That merely managed to confuse Harry further.

And now here they were on another horse ride down the orchards. Harry could feel Draco's eyes on him, unwavering. But Lucius' son was nothing like Lucius. No matter how similar they _appeared_, Draco was naive.

How dare he?

Harry let his horse trot to a halt and Draco did the same. "You have been awfully quiet today," the latter said.

"Is that a crime nowadays?" Harry murmured. "I must be behind times."

Draco smiled privately, watching the limber body dismount with a slight bounce. Everything about the man was perfect in Draco's eyes, especially the fact that their conversations never grew tiresome.

Harry waited for Draco to get down and Draco merely looked at him expectantly. "Hmm," Harry murmured with a roll of his eyes. He reached up and grabbed Draco's outstretched hand.

Draco stopped his giddy laugh before it could leave him. Harry helped him down, like before. And Draco refused to let go, like before. From this close, the young Lord appeared as Lucius had all those years ago. It was eerie. Confusing.

Harry made to wrench his hand back.

Draco wouldn't let him, pulling him forward instead.

Harry's breath caught loudly and his blood ran cold. "Let me go," he demanded.

Draco let go without argument, startling Harry.

Lucius would have never let go.

Then again, Draco hadn't let go either, not really.

Harry couldn't tear himself away from the familiar grey eyes.

This was trouble.

"Are you afraid?"

"I am not afraid of anything," Harry answered, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "You are nothing to be afraid of."

"I enjoy your company," Draco said. He stepped back. "Intriguing."

"Hmm," Harry mumbled. Then he turned towards his horse so he wouldn't have to look at Draco.

"May I paint you?"

"No, you may not."

"You think poorly of me, Mr. Potter," Draco remarked while tending to his horse as well so he could hide his smile.

Harry hesitantly glanced at the young Lord, glad to see that he had turned away. "Yes."

"Why?"

Harry stroked the neck of his mare as he mulled over his thoughts for an appropriate answer. "Because you know nothing," he said, emboldened by the fact that Draco still appeared calm.

"And what do I not know, Mr. Potter?"

"The business," he answered. "You will squander all of the money in a matter of a decade. Then what? What of the Malfoy Empire? You are clearly unfit to-"

"Which is why I have you," Draco interjected, causing Harry to look up at him again. "You will ensure that I do not squander away _all_ of the money, but you _must_ let me squander away _some_ of it."

"You make light of the situation," Harry muttered in disdain.

"And I have you to make heavy of it," Draco concluded.

"What leads you to believe that I will work for you?" Harry asked, turning around and standing in front of Draco with his head held high and his nose turned up condescendingly.

"What leads you to believe you will not?" Draco asked with a roguish smile.

Harry scorned Draco for three days after that incident.

The man drove the apprentice mad with irritation. He was always daydreaming and drawing. Whenever Lucius attempted to teach him, Draco would listen with half of his attention on an entirely different matter. He slept for hours, dined in leisure, drank for pleasure and lazed around the manor. Harry truly feared for the Malfoy fortune.

He also hated to think that the money would go to Draco while _he_ had worked so hard to help Lucius increase profits for over ten years. He did not like sharing. He had never had a reason to share, in fact. Now he had to compete for both the fortune as well as his Lord's attention.

Lucius barely had time for Harry, what with his regular meetings with his son as well as his busy travels around the country. Without Lucius at the manor to speak to, Harry was stuck in his own mind with no one intellectual enough to spar with. He hated feeling this closed in. He hated it even more so now that he had to take care of a child he was slowly starting to despise.

"Are you certain, my Lord?" he asked, his voice edged with frustration.

"What is the matter?" Lucius sighed.

"He is incompetent!"

"You will not speak ill of my son."

"He is an incompetent fool who wiles away his time in his foolish world."

"Mr. Potter."

"He will ruin you! Do you wish for that? I, for one, do not."

"Be quiet for a moment, brat."

Harry snapped his teeth shut and scowled angrily.

Lucius exhaled in disappointment. "I understand that you are angry with me for not telling you about my son and I understand that you are angry with my son's disposition, but that does not give you the right to speak of him in this manner." He folded his arms in front of his chest with a closed expression on his face. "An insult towards him is an insult to me."

Harry was sulking now.

"Look at me."

He refused.

"Mr. Potter."

He raised his defiant eyes to meet Lucius' cold ones.

"You will give him the same respect you show me."

"That is what I have been-"

"You know what I mean," Lucius muttered. "No more games. I hate games."

* * *

><p>Draco was pleasantly surprised to see a spectacular change in Harry. The man was more receptive after their first 'quarrel'. He did not make snide remarks when the topic of France was brought up. He did not look down his nose at the young Lord when talking business with him. He did not smirk at Draco when he caught the man sketching.<p>

In fact, he accompanied Draco on walks and dined with him. He did not complain when the young Lord set up camp in his study and disturbed him every ten minutes to chat about the weather. He did not scowl when Draco jabbed him with slight insults and laughter. He was a model apprentice for two whole days.

By the end of those two days, Draco was fed up with it.

"You are angry with me," he grumbled unhappily.

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He had been starting to wonder how immensely thick this man was. He had spent the past two days pasting a fake smile on his lips and paying many patronizing compliments to the man. "What makes you say that?" he asked instead of snickering.

Draco was quite close to whining in dismay. He _liked_ the Harry who mocked him, not this loyal servant who had suddenly appeared out of thin air. "You have been unnaturally obedient," he noted. "Is it because of what I said?"

"Am I not to work for you, my Lord?" Harry asked. If Draco listened closely enough, he could have heard the mocking note in the apprentice's voice, but the young Lord was too busy pouting. "Then this is how I must behave."

"Then, if I let you go, you will behave the way you used to?"

Harry stopped walking.

"You do not work for me any longer, Mr. Potter," Draco said with a curt nod.

"Pardon?"

"You are, as of now, unemployed."

"You cannot do that!"

Draco's heart thrilled when he heard that loud protest. "I may do what I want. I am the Lord of this-"

"You are not the Lord of anything," Harry snapped. "You have no authority over me, Mr. Malfoy. Good day." He spun on his heel and stormed away. Draco allowed himself a congratulatory smile as he watched Mr. Potter's _excellent_ form.

* * *

><p>Harry was soon given a taste of his own medicine. Draco realized that in order to rile Mr. Potter into breaking character, he would need to drastically change his own character.<p>

Oh, how he loved games!

"DEAR GOD!"

Draco and his gaggle of young minions were practically rolling on the ground, laughing, when they heard the scream. For the past two hours, they had studiously moved all of the things out of Mr. Potter's study and into the vacant room four doors down. Now the study was nothing but a dusty room with a raggedy rug and a sagging couch.

The door burst open and Harry staggered out in shock. He whipped his head to the side when he heard muffled laughter. "YOU!" he roared, launching at Draco with his hands at the young Lord's throat.

"Ow, ow!" Draco coughed, trying to push Harry away. The children were running about with glee, clapping and cheering Draco on. "Breathe!" he wheezed.

"WHERE ARE MY BOOKS?"

"Burned them," Draco choked out, laughing even as he did so.

"ARGH!" Harry dragged Draco up and violently shook him. "TELL ME!"

"It's over there!" Lucy giggled happily, pointing to the door that now held Harry's study behind it.

Harry pushed Draco back to the ground unceremoniously and rushed to the room, throwing the door open. "Oh, thank goodness," he exhaled, sagging against the doorjamb. Now the kids were milling around him, laughing at him and imitating his meltdown by throttling each other. Draco coughed weakly while chuckling. Harry scowled at everything and everyone, _especially_ Draco. He received a wide grin in return, which merely made his scowl grow murderous.

Then there were some irritating times when Draco saddled _Harry's_ horse and went on long rides, returning to furious admonishment and more scowling. And when it came time for Harry to teach Draco more about the Malfoy businesses, the latter would act bored and stare out the window while the former scowled and shouted at him some more.

"He is toying with me!" Harry complained to Lucius. "This is what I must deal with? He mocks me!"

"You need some humility," Lucius murmured, kissing Harry into silence.

Harry pulled his head to the side, not yet done with his grievances. "He uses _my_ office without my permission. He takes _my_ books. He rides _my_ horse. He reads _my_ letters. He breaks _my_-"

Lucius grabbed Harry's wrists and jerked them up against the headboard. "Enough," he ordered. Harry lapsed into silence at the mere tone of his Lord's voice; it was dripping with impatience. Lucius cocked a brow at the young man and Harry spread his legs without comment. "With feeling this time," the Lord muttered.

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled to get rid of the rest of his anger. "I am sorry, my Lord," he apologized, taking a moment to compose himself. "I just-" He looked up with a wary smile. "I enjoy your company more than his."

"Good." Lucius let go of Harry's wrists and drew him into a passionate kiss.

* * *

><p>Draco quickly caught up with Harry who was purposefully walking quickly to avoid the young Lord. He held back a defeated groan when Draco started striding alongside him. "My Lord?" he asked with tightness in his voice.<p>

"Yes, yes," Draco dismissed absently. "I merely wish to enquire on your future plans."

"What future plans?"

"Now that you are no longer employed by me," Draco said with an affected sniff, "what do you plan on doing?"

"Watch you squander away your wealth, my Lord," Harry muttered under his breath, throwing open the door to his new study. He spun around before Draco could follow him in. "With pleasure," he added before slamming the door shut.

Draco opened it and walked right on in despite Harry's frustrated growl. "You see, there is this marvelous fair in town and I-"

"No."

"But you have not heard what I-"

"No."

"I am your Lord."

"No, my Lord."

"You cannot say 'no' to your Lord."

"I can. No. It is quite easy."

Draco huffed and placed his hands on table at which Harry was seated, leaning in for emphasis. "You cannot say 'no' to _me_."

"And why not?" Harry asked, finally looking at Draco with a bored sigh.

"Because, unless you are _completely _thick," Draco started to explain with a frown, "you have noticed that I have been trying _quite_ hard to get on your good side and if you do not accompany me to the fair, God help you, I will-"

"You will what, my Lord?" Harry challenged, widening his eyes theatrically. "Call your father?"

Draco grabbed Harry by the collar and, with strength he had never before shown, jerked the apprentice forward over the table until they were but an inch away from each other, hovering over strewn paper and books. Harry's words were robbed out of sheer shock of what had happened in the span of half of a second. Draco couldn't stop his eyes from wandering towards Mr. Potter's lips that were parted and still. Oh, but to taste them…

Harry froze as terror suddenly caused his limbs to stop functioning. His nails scraped against the table as his fingers balled into tight fists. His heart was at his throat and a fierce bellow was building up inside him.

Draco let out a defeated groan and smacked his forehead to Harry's. "Or I will go on my own," he whispered, "and you will simply sit here, bored out of your wits."

Harry could hardly speak for a few moments. Once he had gathered himself enough to jerk away from Draco, he sat down heavily and pressed his back against the chair. "I will not hold it over your head," he answered shakily.

"Pity."

"Hmm."

Draco finally stood up straight once again, his expression plainly showing his irritation. "Your loss, Mr. Potter," he snubbed. He strode away with his hands in his pockets.

Harry sat back in his chair while pressing an absent-minded hand against his neck, feeling his rapid pulse.

He knew of the strange artist folks of France. They were insensible, extravagant and loud, and the young Mr. Malfoy seemed to personify all those characteristics at once. Harry disliked that sort of free-floating people who took their lives for granted. He had never met many of that kind since he was always surrounded by businessmen who took their trade quite seriously and had no time for shenanigans. So it was no surprise that he disliked Draco's disposition from the beginning. On top of being Lucius' son, the man was a dreamer while Harry was a realist.

But sometimes dreams and reality come together in the strangest of ways…

* * *

><p>Harry had watched Draco down five crystals of wine over the course of dinner. His aversion to alcohol kept him sober and he scrunched his nose at the young Lord disdainfully. To him, alcohol was poisonous and evil. He did not understand why it was even being kept in the manor.<p>

Draco finished his sixth glass with a dramatic flourish, smacking the glass on to the table. Harry cringed, anticipating the loss of fine crystal. It did not break and Draco stood up while swaying dangerously. "Thank you for the lovely dinner, Mr. Potter," the man slurred, bowing low. "Your _silent_ presence has been _very_ comforting."

Harry rolled his eyes the moment Draco's back was turned. He watched the man stagger this way and that, and only when they reached the stairs did he realize that letting the young Lord tumble to his death would be very unfavorable for _both_ of them. "Here, my Lord," he murmured, taking one of Draco's arms and draping it over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around the Lord's waist.

Draco leaned heavily against Harry with a blissful sigh. "Ah, Mr. Potter," he murmured, letting himself be led up the stairs. "How kind."

"Indeed," Harry answered. They had reached halfway up the staircase when he felt a soft touch against his neck. He tried to crane away from the fingers but his movement was greatly restricted by Draco. He soon felt a hand running down his shoulder and towards the small of his back.

No one had ever touched him that way other than Lucius.

"Please, stop," he murmured quietly.

"Hmm… No," Draco smiled. He pushed Harry against the wall and-

Harry was thrust into an old memory.

_He sat on the bed with his hands on his lap and his back straight while straining to listen for the stumbling steps of the Lord. This was the worst part of his nights, the anticipation. He never knew if Lucius would simply walk past his door or come barging in, so he needed to be prepared for either._

_He jumped when he finally heard the sound of shoes on carpet. His hands moved to either side of him, fingers digging into the sheets as he waited with bated breath._

Draco forced his lips against Harry's, kissing him hungrily.

And Harry froze in fear when he tasted alcohol against his lips for the first time in a decade.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco sighed once before pulling away. "Mr. Potter," he hummed, dropping his head against Harry's shoulder while his hands traveled up the man's chest and stopped at the buttons of his shirt.

"No," Harry managed to say shakily, grabbing Draco's wrists with clammy hands.

"Yes."

Draco jerked Harry up the stairs and down the dark corridor.

_Harry jumped off of the bed when the door to his room was shoved open. Lucius stood half-hidden in the shadows, a hand on the doorjamb and the other held out towards the young boy._

"_M-my Lord," Harry murmured with a quick bow._

"_Now," Lucius growled impatiently. Harry hurried over to him with his heart running away on him and his body flashing cold from the mere thought of what was to come._

Harry stumbled over the carpet as he was pushed into an unfamiliar room – the young Lord's chambers. He whipped around in fright, his hands finding their way to his stomach that was contracting painfully. Before he could find his voice, he was forced onto the bed and bitter lips sought his own.

_And then a hand would run down this shirt, rapidly snapping off buttons and even tearing some fabric, and pull apart the two halves to reveal the soft skin beneath. His Lord would lavish bruising attention on his torso until-_

He was so scared…

Fingers played down his ribs and he arched away from them while his breath mingled with his tears, making him heave for air. His fingers curled into the sheets.

_He knew he wasn't supposed to cry. The Lord hated to see such an unfavorable expression on his face. But sometimes he just couldn't stop, especially when the pain was so heavy that it made him breathless…_

Hands sculpted every inch of his chest and back while lips tasted his skin with abandon.

_Fingers raked his hair and drove his head back and he parted his mouth and-_

Let out a shuddering sob.

And everything stopped…

"Harry."

He opened his eyes in bewilderment.

Draco was sitting up with a thoroughly embarrassed and guilty appearance. "I am not really-" he started saying before catching himself. "I am … that-" He grimaced. "I thought you-" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I am sorry."

Harry gaped at Draco. The man sounded perfectly lucid and sober. "What?"

Draco slid off of Harry and sat beside him. "It … um … it is quite hard to get me intoxicated," he mumbled, still not daring to look at Harry as he did up the man's shirt. Harry held his breath when he felt the fingers move up his torso methodically. "Perhaps I misunderstood your intentions… I apologize." He wanted to throw himself out the window and get it over with. He had made such a fool of himself in front of Mr. Potter. On top of that, he had scared the poor man.

He patted Harry's chest after finishing up with the buttons. "I am an actor when the time calls for it," he whispered.

Draco had been acting? Pretending? Harry sat up slowly as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "I don't understand," he said brokenly.

Draco leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Harry's teary cheek. He felt Harry flinch away and his heart dropped. "I see," he murmured. He stared at Harry for a while longer, getting his fill. "Perhaps this is goodnight, then?"

Harry scrambled back without further prompt and rushed out of the room in a full-on sprint.

Draco groaned as he fell against the bed. "God, strike me dead. _Please_," he begged.

* * *

><p>The young Lord continued to berate himself and contemplated staying in his bedroom for a good week so he could avoid running into Mr. Potter.<p>

He had thought his performance to be quite badly exaggerated that night. He had put on a wobbling slur in his speech and had weaved about like a pathetic drunk. How could Mr. Potter not have seen through him? He had been surprised when Harry stood silently while being assaulted. He had hoped for retaliation of some sort. Instead, he thought that he had finally managed to tame Mr. Potter when he was met with compliant lips and silence. So he had carried on with his charade.

But now that he thought back to it, it was evident that Mr. Potter hadn't been compliant at all. In fact, he had merely been shocked and terrified, hence the silence. And the tears…

"Argh!" Draco kicked a chair over with a passionate bellow of anguish. He had made such a fool of himself!

The door to his study flew open at that moment and he turned around to find Mr. Potter striding in with murder in his eyes. He did not lift even a finger when a stinging blow fell on his cheek. His head snapped to the side and he bit his lip to hold in a pained gasp.

"You pitiful idiot," Harry spat out.

Draco knew he deserved every bit of this so he kept silent, unable to meet the fierce emerald glare that was no doubt awaiting him.

But he wasn't expecting a blow to his other cheek as well.

This time he staggered back and looked up in shock.

Harry lifted his hand a third time and it blurred forward.

Draco caught it effortlessly by the wrist but his eyes stayed on Harry's flushed face. His heart, which had been racing a moment ago, was thundering at the sight of the man in front of him. "How many times will you hit me?" he asked carefully.

Harry answered by gritting his teeth together.

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter," Draco murmured even as he tightened his fingers around the thin wrist. "You must know that."

"Let me go," Harry snarled.

"Do you hate to be touched by me?"

A flash of emotion passed in the apprentice's eyes and Draco did not miss it. He let go of Harry and dropped his hand to his side.

Harry struck Draco with an open palm again.

In a flurry of movement, Draco had Harry pinned against the wall by the shoulders. Their ragged breaths had no rhythm and neither did their frantic pulse. Harry had his head thrown to the side and a grimace on his face, as though he were expecting harsh reaction and pain.

Draco swallowed down the urge to deliver that awaiting blow. Instead, he leaned in and rested his forehead against Harry's shoulder. He needed to think. He needed to know what Harry was thinking. "I am sorry," he whispered again. He slid a hand up to graze his fingers against Harry's cheek.

"No."

Draco pulled back as he had promised. He stepped away and Harry pushed off of the wall. He rushed out of the room without another word. Draco jumped when the door slammed shut. "Damn it," he groaned in dismay. What was he doing to Potter?

Harry did not stop until he had arrived at his own library and closed the door behind him. Only then did he pause to take a breath.

He sat down on the sofa with his eyes trained on his reddened palms. There was a slight ache behind them, one that pulsated into his heart.

He balled his fingers into hard fists. "Well played, Mr. Malfoy," he murmured.

_Earlier that morning…_

Lucius sat behind his desk with one long leg crossed over the other and his elbows resting against the armrests, fingers meeting to form a steeple against which he pressed to his lips. He was the epitome of discipline. Harry was standing by the window, staring out at the damp grounds, arms crossed against his chest and head bowed.

"Why are you telling me this?" the Lord asked after many moments of silence.

"Because I want him to leave."

"No."

Harry slowly exhaled. He had been expecting as much. "You do not care what he does to me?" he asked, turning his head slightly.

Lucius observed Harry's profile for a minute. Then he said, "What is mine is his."

Harry gnashed his teeth together and whipped around to meet the Lord's composure. "He has no right to touch me," he hissed. "If it had been any other man, you would have had his head for this!"

"But he is no other man. He is my son."

Harry felt his stomach churn in disgust. "You sicken me," he snarled before storming away.

He was stopped just a step from the door and spun around into a forceful kiss that lasted long enough to snatch his breath away. When Lucius broke the lip lock, Harry leaned against his shoulder to catch that breath. "What will you do now, Mr. Potter?" the Lord murmured. He reached up to run his fingers through Harry's hair.

"I thought you hated games, my Lord," Harry whispered shakily.

"But you love them."

"I do not want to play this one."

"Afraid you will lose?"

"No," Harry answered without hesitation.

Lucius stepped back and calmly cocked a brow. "I will not send him away," he said with a firm nod.

Harry flicked his eyes away while seething in anger. "Then … I will hurt him. I will hurt him and you have no right to interfere."

Lucius couldn't help his smile. "I would expect nothing less from you," he murmured, dismissing Harry with a wave of his hand.

* * *

><p>A ride around the grounds had always helped clear the apprentice's head. He knew the orchards and fields like the back of his hand since he had spent days and days mapping it with his horse. He could follow the trails without thinking about it and that was necessary since his mind was almost always occupied with other things.<p>

When he trotted back to the stable, he was feeling much more refreshed and energetic. However his disposition took a turn for the worse when he was met with Draco.

The young Lord held up a hand. Harry shunned it and helped himself to the ground with ease. Draco pulled his hand back while stifling a helpless sigh. Harry had refused to speak to him for over three days now. "I apologized," he reminded the apprentice. "I apologized many times, Mr. Potter."

Harry quickened his pace as he walked the horse into the stable.

Draco kept close. "Why did you cry?"

Harry spun around. "Perhaps I have not made myself clear, Mr. Malfoy-," he started to say tightly.

"Draco."

Harry blinked and the rest of his words trailed away. "Pardon?"

"My name is Draco."

Irritation showed plainly on the apprentice's face. "Well then, _Draco_," he muttered. "Damn you."

Draco's eyes widened with shock. "What?" he asked.

"I said _damn_ _you_," Harry repeated. "In fact, damn you to hell."

"Why, Mr. Potter!" Draco exclaimed while trying ever so hard not to laugh. "Such language! It is absolutely deplorable!"

Harry whipped around and resumed his walk down to the last stall.

"May I call you Harry?"

He did not dignify that with an answer. He unsaddled his horse his horse with deliberate slowness, but Draco made no move to leave. So he picked up the brush and started grooming his beloved mare.

"La plus perdue de toutes les journées est celle où l'on n'a pas ri."

Harry paused for a moment, but just for a moment. "I thought you did not know French," he remarked complacently.

"I lied."

"You seem to do an awful lot of that."

"I know. It is sure to be the reason for my fall."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Would you like to know what it means?"

"No."

Draco tilted his head down and smiled. Mr. Potter wasn't angry with him after all. He was glad for that. It would not do to antagonize this man. "Very well," he said. "But one day you will surely lose the will to resist a translation, Mr. Potter. I await that day with pleasure."

"Go away."

"Such beautiful words," Draco hummed as he strolled out of the stable with his hands in his pockets and a skip in his step.

Harry waited until he could not hear the footsteps any longer before relaxing. He wrung the handle of the brush with all his might while glaring at his horse. "What do you suppose we should do, my love?" he muttered. "Stab him with a knife or throw him down the well and watch him drown?"

His horse whinnied happily.

"I agree," Harry snarled. "We shall do both. I will let _you_ kick him in."


End file.
